It's Not Easy Being Evil
by Millikov
Summary: Random rantings of one Dark Lord in his journal. Go Sauron! *Updated! Chapter 2*
1. Ramblings

It's Not Easy Being Evil 

The random ramblings of One Dark Lord, and all-around Evil Bad Guy

The One Journal of Sauron

Dear Journal:

It's not easy being evil. Damn right it's not easy. I mean, evilness is an art that only few (e.g. me) have managed to perfect. Go me.

Being evil isn't easy. Do you actually know how bloody long it took me to get my Supreme-and-Absolutely-Evil-Dark-Lord outfit and look? Its not just throwing together a few scraps of iron and mithril and tah-dah! Evil Bad Guy look. Noooooo. You have to come up with sketch after sketch of outfit designs, and then you have to choose which one is the most evil. Of course, there is always that 87.264850927% chance that your outfit resembles someone else's. For example, my first outfit bore about 20.7629% resemblance to old Voldie's, so the bastard kicked up a big fuss. Hmpff. Some people have no respect for their seniors. Hell, I'm at least 5000 years older then the nancing little ninny. 

When I finally manage to conceive a design for an outfit that bore less then 10% resemblance to someone else's, I had to go through all that steroid treatment to get myself all powerful, spiffy-cool and Evil. Not to mention the number of times I had to send the Ringwraiths to and fro from the tailor's in between my steroid treatments, in order to ensure that my outfit remained spiffy-cool and Evil. That was bloody exasperating. Is it MY fault that the damn tailor didn't know how to stitch metals together? Did I have much of a choice in the first place? How many Bad-Guys actually choose to become a tailor? The one I managed to find was a retired orc, who tailored my whole army's clothes. Not that I blame the poor guy of course.  When you have an I.Q of -103 (unlike yours truly. My I.Q, apparently, is at 1540, better then Elrond's, Gil-Galad's and Galadriel's put together. Go me!), and 1082500 outfits to sew, it becomes difficult to make sure each one is perfect. It took me about 121 years of nagging to get him to finish it. And after all that trouble, people still complain I look like a walking toaster oven. Fucking Eejits. Well, at least I don't wear a white wedding gown, unlike _SOME _people. *CoughSarumanhackcough*. He should have read some of my (best-selling) books, "A dummy's guide to becoming evil," and "Sauron: 12 times winner of E.V.I.L magazine's Most Evil Bad Guy award- How I did it." They are pretty useful, if I do say so myself, me having more then 5 millennia of experience as an Evil Bad Guy. Take that, Voldie! And in case you're wondering, E.V.I.L stands for Evil, Vicious and Intellectual Lords. There's also a version for Evil-Bad-Girls, called Evil, Vivacious and Interesting Ladies. To order, call 1800-EVIL-BAD-GUY, at the price of 2 kingdoms or 10, 000 dead good guys per annum, which is a _steal_. 

Enough about that. Back to what we were talking about. ME.

Yes where were we? Ah, moving on to my next point. Acting Evil. It's not just ACTING EVIL, it's acting Evil with _style_. You can't just be this brainless, lame doinkhead going around blowing up people *coughEmperorPalpatinehackcough*. You have to be smart. You have to have strategy. You have to have style. You have to have poise. Most importantly, you have to be spiffy-cool. Like me. Look at my title. Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor, 12-time winner of E.V.I.L's Most Evil Bad Guy award, Slayer of Gil-Galad (sort of), Senior to all the other Evil Bad Guys in the Universe (except for Satan. Damn), E.V.I.L 's Most Unique Evil Bad Guy (not every day an Evil Bad Guy is a giant eyeball wreathed in flame) Soon-to-be Ruler of Middle Earth. Hah! My long list of credits. Let's investigate some of the other Not-so-Evil Bad Guy's credits. Darth Vader-Asthmatic Sith Lord. Darth Maul-Horny, mutated version of Bozo the Clown. Voldemort-Doinkhead who got blown up by a kid. Dracula-Ex-playgirl model (it came out in a game of truth or dare, when old Drac had too much liqueur. Snicker) and hickey-giver. See? See? I'm superior by far. Because I act Evil with style, making me spiffy-cool. But it's hard. I can't do one single decent thing. When I eat at every meal, I have to shove my food on the floor and complain in an Evil voice that it takes like that lembas crap elves make. I have to remember to do that at every single meal, even when they serve my favourite meal, Chocolate Pudding. It's torture I tell you, torture. I can't even pick up a piece of rubbish from the floor, rather, I have to create rubbish, and I can't stand the mess. Then comes the Evil Dark Lord walk, which I had to practice for ages. You must swagger, your head up, back straight and make sure your butt doesn't shake like the elves. You must exude confidence, ego…egoisticness? And Evilness. Not to mention spiffy-coolness. Your arms must swing just a little, and you must have a permanent scowl on your face. Not the Elrond-nancy-pancy frown, but an Evil, dark, shadow across your face scowl. Your head must also be tilted at a certain angle so that half of it is covered in shadow. The scowl alone gave me migraines for a couple of hundred years, but no aspirin for me. Apparently, Evil Bad Guy's are too Evil for aspirin. Voice must either be raspy and sinister, or booming, deep and Evil. I went for the booming and deep. I didn't want to damage my voice box. Evil Bad Guy's must also be able to do the Evil Laugh. MUAHAHAHAHA! Complete with thunder, lightning, and rain. 

I also have to decorate Mordor in gothic, dark and Evil furniture and wallpaper, making it so dreary. The Gothic look is also so last millennium. I can't get that cool looking lava lamp, or that lovely statue of an Aphrodite that Elrond bought, which would have looked great beside the fish pond I wanted to build. But nooooo. They're all to nancy-pancy. My whole room is just black black black. Can't even have a black sofa, it's too soft, must have stone this, stone that, stone everything.

Yes, and not only that I must also-Oh By Mordor, look at the time! Must dash. I have a Fellowship to kill, Uruk-hai to breed, and a tea party with Saruman, the little nancer. Talk to you later, journal.

                                                                                                                                Yours in Evilness,

                                                                                                                                Sauron****


	2. More Ramblings

The One Journal of the Supremely, Absolute and Ultimate Evil Dark Lord, Sauron (NOT Melkor, and certainly not Voldie)

Dear Sauron's Journal,

This is LORD Voldemort here. Just popping a note to say-SAURON IS A WIMP WHO SHAGS SHORT DWARVES AND IS A PERVY HOBBIT/DAWRF FANCIER!!!! HE ALSO APPLIES MASCARA!! NANCY-PANCY! MOOHAHAHAHAHA! JOIN LORD VOLDEMORT INSTEAD!!!! MOOAHAHAHA!! 

The REAL Dark Lord,

Voldemort

Dear One Journal,

YARGHH! How did that whiny little brat access my journal? HOW? HOW? Knew that should have had ten thousand Orcs guarding One Journal, instead of five thousand. On bright side though, old Voldie cannot do evil laugh to save Celebrimbor's life. Moohaha my arse. It's MWUAHAHAHA, you bloody eejit. MWUAHAHAHA! Still remember how he was pestering me with Palantír-calls in Second Age. "Teacher Sauron, do I look evil enough?" "Oh Great Sauron, teach your humble servant Voldemort, please!"  And I'm not the one who dragged some stupid red headed Weasly girl down to some stupid chamber just so I could shag her. Honestly, how dumb and un-spiffy-cool can Voldie get?

Yes, anyway, back to ME. 

Lalala…eh? Oh yes. Had rather interesting day today, involving peeking in on Galadriel taking a bath. Heh. Heheheh. Of course, those fluffy pillows she has at her place are to DIE for, and that fountain? Mmm-mm. Wait. Must stop. I am an Evil Dark Lord, no, make that THE Dark Lord, I cannot and will not succumb to the horrors of effeminate fountains and fluffy pillows. The Uruk-hai breeding is not going particularly well, especially since Saruman keeps whining about how they look so…slimy. Had to resist the very strong urge to thwack him. They're SUPPOSED to be slimy! That's the whole POINT! Its part of my master plan to stop the Fellowship. See, the Uruk-hai are so slimy that the elf-person will be too afraid to fight them. Ah yes, I can just imagine it…

Aragorn: Orcs!

*Enter Uruk-hai*

Boromir: Come, my brothers! For Gondor! CHARGE!

Frodo: For the Shire!

Merry: For Mushrooms!

Pippin: For Ale!

Sam: For Rosie! 

Gimli: For Mithril!

Gandalf: For Pipe-weed!

Aragorn: For Arwen!

*Aragorn pauses in mid-charge*

Aragorn: Legolas? Why aren't you charging?

Legolas: Ai, Ai! There is some fell slime on those Orcs! That icky stuff will damage my sleek and shiny mane of fair and lusciously golden hair! Nay, I will not fight! I will sit here, braid my hair and look pretty while you brave warriors continue with your onslaught of those…icky, dirty things…ladeeda, I'm so pretty…

MWUAHAHAHA! MWUAHAHAHA! MWUAHAHAHAHA!

 Wait…you know, I bloody well can't figure out if that elf is a he or she…hmm… I think it's a she. Shelob popped by and we discussed some very serious issues over some Bloody Beleg, Evil Elixir and Shire Swing Cocktails, such as why black is called black and how come the "good guys" are so un-spiffy-cool and boring.  Seems that dear old Shelob is still gloating from her little tussle with Little Miss Muffet. Shelob's a really spiffy-cool Minister of Modorian Affairs. Keeps the Orc population in check. Orcs may not taste as good as curds and whey, but we can't be too picky now, can we? Plus, we came up with new nicknames for Celeborn and Elrond—CelePORN and ElROMP. MWUAHAHAHA! Speaking of which, I have a bone to pick with Elromp *snicker*. Am I so lowly in bloody Elromp's eyes? Really, all he sends is nine puny, measly, nancing brats to destroy me. ME! The Dark Lord! The Supremely Evil Bad Guy. Elrond's either being damn cocky or damn stupid. I'm going with stupid. I don't think much of elves, much less one who couldn't even keep his wife in Middle-earth (bet Celebrían used that whole "Orcs Tormented Me!" excuse JUST to get away from him). With the exception of that Galadriel, though how she ended up with a loser like Celeborn I'll never know. I think that the dwarf in the Fellowship may be the only decent fellow there. Let's see, when you have four useless hobbits, one even more useless elf, one wizard whom I strongly suspect is high on pipe-weed and two extremely unhygienic men, you'd have to admire the dwarf for tolerating such a motley crew. Plus, he's the only being in Middle-earth who can braid his hair without looking girly. Can't get much better than that, can you?

Ah, Gimli, Gimli, Gimli, you manly (dwarfly?) thing, you!

Overall, it was a pretty all right day, I'm starting to get used to the whole Gothic and Dark décor in Mordor, even if I think its absolutely blasé. But taking the form of a lidless eye is not particularly enjoyable, because no eyelid means cannot close eye, which means CANNOT SLEEP. I have to constantly apply Sauron's Secret Strawberry Eye Cream in secret. But on the other hand, it is good publicity, sparking off the whole "Evil Does Not Sleep" Campaign of Fear. The Ringwraiths have returned unsuccessfully, all sopping wet, horses gone, armor rusty, and Angmar has submitted a petition for them to take Wednesdays off. Wanted to kill him, unfortunately, remembered that he's neither living nor dead. EVIL DOES NOT TAKE OFF-DAYS! The same way that Evil cannot sleep, evil cannot take holidays. Can you imagine what would happen if I let them have their way? Soon there'll be sightings of Nazgûl on the Gulf of Lhûn, sipping fruit punch, munching lembas and sun tanning in tacky flower-print shirts. They can do that AFTER we conquer Middle-earth, not before, damn them. Sheesh, the problems a Dark Lord has to put up with, all for the sake of getting back my One Ring. I miss it, my precious, my love…yesss…eh? Oh…heh heh…err-uhm. Must go now, as have spent too much time writing here, will give you an update soon, One Journal.

Yours in spiffy-coolness,

Sauron 

Deer MAsTUR'S Gernal,

Dis iz Grishnákh DE ORC hear. Nut surposed to bee writing hear, bt i is juzt oneting too say dat MAsTUR Sauron BEE a grate Dark Lard, an Alrond BE a steenky doo doo. KeLABARN IZ ALSO BE A STEENKY STOOPID HED. WE HART HIM! N MY SIZTAR, GrishnákhA, HAZ THING TOO SAY:

DEER MASTUR SAURON…I LUV U, MARY MI! – GrishnákhA, ZIsTeR OF Grishnákh.

Dear One Journal:

This is Sauron. Oh Dear Eru. That's the last time I'm EVER keeping a Journal. I'm going to toss you out of the window now. Bye! MWUAHAHA!

Dear Pretty-looking Journal:

My name is Galadriel, and you just happened to land on my head while I was strolling around the Golden Woods in all my Elven glory. I still think I'm prettier than Celeborn, despite what he says. Why I married a loser like him, I'll never know. I wonder who you belong to, Journal, but your former owner has good taste, since you are all decked out in lace and Pink, fluffy material. And that butterfly bookmark? Lovely, absolutely charming. And your former owner seems to have written to you in pink and purple colored ink. My, my, aren't you pretty. Maybe your owner is a she-dwarf, as she seems to have surrounded the name "Gimli" with pink hearts. I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I just had a peek at what your former owner wrote would it? Hm…let's see…


End file.
